"I'm feeling pretty good, thank you, Reivers," said Toppy quietly,
though the voice of the man had thrilled him with the challenge in it.
He turned his head slowly and looked up from his chair at Reivers with
an expression of great serenity. The Big Game had begun between them,
and Toppy was an expert at keeping his play hidden.
"Much obliged for strapping up my ankle, Reivers," he said. "Silly
thing, to sprain an ankle; but thanks to your expert bandaging it'll be
ready to walk on soon."
"It wasn't a bad sprain," said Reivers, moving up and standing in front
of him. That was Reivers all through. Toppy was sitting; Reivers was
standing, looking down on him, his favourite pose. The black anger
boiled in Toppy's heart, but by his expression one could read only that
he was a grateful young man.
"No, it wasn't a bad sprain," continued Reivers, his upper lip lifting
in its customary smile of scorn, "but--a man who attempts such heavy
lifts must have no weak spot in him."
Toppy twisted himself into a more comfortable position in his chair and
smiled.
"'Attempts' is hardly the right word there, Reivers. Pardon me for
differing with you," he laughed. "You may remember that the attempt was
a success."
A glint of amusement in Reivers' cold eyes showed that he appreciated
that something more weighty than a mere question of words lay beneath
that apparently casual remark. For an instant his eyes narrowed, as if
trying to see beyond Toppy's smile and read what lay behind, but Toppy's
good poker-face now stood him in good stead, and he looked blandly back
at Reivers' peering eyes and continued to smile. Reivers laughed.
"Quite right, Treplin; obliged to you for correcting me," he said. "A
chap gets rusty out here, where none of the laws of speech are observed.
I'll depend upon you to bring me back to form again--later on. Is your
ankle really feeling strong?"
For answer Toppy rose and stood on it.
"Well, well!" laughed Reivers. "Then Miss Pearson's sympathy was all
wasted. What's the matter, Treplin? Aren't you glad to hear that
charming young lady is enough interested in you to hunt me up and ask me
to step in and see how you are this morning?"
"Not particularly," replied Toppy, although he was forced to admit to
himself a glow at this explanation of the girl's conversation with
Reivers.
"What are you interested in?" said Reivers suddenly.
Toppy looked up at him shrewdly.
"I tell you what I'd like to do, Reivers; I'd like to learn the
logging-business--learn how to run a camp like this--run it efficiently, I
mean."
"Worthy ambition," came the instant reply, "and you've come to the right
school. How fortunate for you that you fell into this camp! You might
have got into one where the boss had foolish ideas. You might even have
fallen in with a humanitarian. Then you'd never have learned how to make
men do things for you, and consequently you'd never have learned to run
a camp efficiently.
"Thank your lucky stars, Treplin, that you fell in with me. I'll rid you
of the silly little ideas about right and wrong that books and false
living have instilled in your head. I believe you've got a good
head--almost as good as mine. If, for instance, you were in a situation
where it was your life or the other fellow's, you'd survive. That's the
proof of a good head. Want to learn the logging-business, do you? Good!
Is your ankle strong enough for you to get around on?"
Toppy took an ax-handle from the corner and, using it as a cane, hobbled
around the room.
"Yes, it will stand up all right," he said. "What's the idea?"
"Come with me," laughed Reivers, swinging toward the door. "We're just
in time for lesson number one on how to run a camp efficiently."